


Litany

by what_the_butler_saw



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Cullen can't believe his luck, Cullen is good at running away, F/M, Finally, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Lavellan gets cross, Lavellan won't let him run away, Mother Giselle interrupts, On the Spot, Outdoor smooching, Revelation, Soul-Searching, Sweet, We're friends, gets a bit sentimental, possible purple prose warning applies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:32:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_the_butler_saw/pseuds/what_the_butler_saw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cullen bravely flirts but then tries to run away until Lavellan calls his bluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Litany

**Author's Note:**

> No adherence to main story Cullen/Inquisitor romance whatsoever!  
> Little bitty fluffy drabble.  
> I hope you enjoy it <3

Cullen frowned at the book he was reading, flipping between two pages where the text and the illustration were separated. New ideas from Orlais on swordsmanship. He dog-eared the corner before putting the book down on the bench. He sat, sideways on, legs crossed at the ankles, and folded his arms. He tapped a foot. Listened to Skyhold waking up. 

He was an early riser from an early age, consolidated by the Order, and now being in bed beyond six made him feel very decadent. 

A trait he’d discovered happily, that he shared with the Inquisitor. She was making her way through the flower beds in the garden to him now. 

‘You are like a cat in the sun, Commander,’ she smiled, and he raised his knees so she could sit at the opposite end of the bench. She did so and tucked her feet in the soft halla leather boots between his. ‘Despite all your protestations of being a grumpy bear you are more of a lounging lion than you know.’ 

‘Good morning to you too. Sleep well?’ 

‘Well enough, under stone. It saps my energy I think. I need a hammock on the balcony.’ She picked idly at a weed growing up next to the bench and rolled a leaf between her fingers. ‘How did you sleep?’ 

‘’Well enough. Under the hole in my roof.’ 

She smiled. ‘I would gladly exchange rooms.’ 

‘You could just come and share,’ he said and held the quick sparkling gaze she gave him. 

‘For a man who professes to be awkward around the opposite sex, you are surprisingly forthright sometimes.’ 

‘I feel … very comfortable with you,’ he said, tapping his foot against hers. 

‘Ah,’ she grinned. ‘So not everybody gets the benefit of the Commander being flirty.’ 

Cullen gave a lop-sided grin. ‘I’m afraid not. Just you.’ He paused and looked away a moment. ‘Does it … bother you?’ 

She leaned forwards after a moment and put a hand on his knee, pulling his attention to her. He looked at her small hand on his knee, and swallowed. He did feel comfortable around her, but he trusted himself only so far, keeping the depth of his feelings contained, because he wasn’t certain he wouldn’t lose her if she knew. 

She put her head on one side, studying him. ‘I can’t make you out sometimes. I can’t make you out at all.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You are generous with yourself sometimes and then snatch it away, as if you are scared. But what are you scared of?’ she asked musingly. 

His found he could look anywhere but at her. He focused on the peeling paint of the bench, where the wood was weathered, exposed. 

‘I’m a thirty-one year old man. Of course I’m not scared,’ he said to the bench. 

‘Now look me in the eye and say it.’ 

He swung his legs down and leaned forward, inhaling sharply before letting out a rambling sigh. ‘I’ll assume it bothers you.’ 

‘Of course you will. But really I’d rather you _didn’t_ assume that.’ She had swung her legs down too, her voice a little sharp. 

‘It’s getting late, I need to get on. Please excuse me.’ 

‘No.’ 

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said as he stood. A little surprised. 

‘You’re not excused. Of course you may _go_ , but I’m not excusing you. I want you to stay, I don’t want you to run away.’ 

‘ _Maker’s breath_ Ellerie, I’m not running away. I’m …’ 

She reached up and tugged at his hand, pulling him to sit down again. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric, and he clenched his jaw, trying to ignore how much he didn’t want her to stop. 

‘The thing about flirting, and being comfortable, Cullen,’ she said slowly and deliberately, ‘ is that it might just be returned. If it bothered me, would I stay to hear it? Would I come looking for you first thing in the morning, would I touch you or smile at you or …’ she chuckled, a small choked sound she was trying to suppress. ‘Would I rub my cheek on your shoulder and think what a nice shoulder it was and how I’d like to see it without a shirt on it.’ 

He didn’t reply, but he couldn’t move either. Certainly didn’t want to. 

She held out her hand, and waited until he got the message and put his hand in hers, entwining their fingers. 

‘And now I’ve probably said too much and made you feel uncomfortable. I wish, an odd wish maybe, that you were Elven. We are far more open about these things.’ She paused. ‘Though this might be only partly to do with you being human and a lot more to do with you being _you_.’ 

His back stiffened at that. ‘You are far too trusting of me. I am not proud of who I was before the Inquisition, I am slowly trying to atone for what I feel responsible for. But I … If I seem uncertain and hesitant it is because I do not feel I am in a position to offer you what you want.’ He felt hollow saying it, like a litany. Something he said to himself so often, that he … _needed_ to have between him and the world. The world in this case being the sweet, strange woman beside him. 

She snorted indelicately. ‘That sounded like you have rehearsed it. And what do I want anyway, that you think you can’t offer?’ 

He drew a ragged breath and sat back slowly, looking down at their fingers. With his free hand he stroked her fingers between his, traced her finger nails, marveled at the slimness, the fragile look of her hand like a bird, in his. 

‘Normality. Stability. Strength –‘ 

‘So you’re not normal, stable or strong. What a pile of shit, Cullen.’ 

He turned his head, his eye brows raised in surprise. 

She pulled her fingers free. ‘We’ve been dancing around this for months. For _endless_ months, Cullen. What do you think I want, when I come and see you first when I get back from another month long slog out to a desert, or a sick, plague-ridden swamp? Why do I come and see you first? Why don’t you tell me what you _think_ I want when I come and see you.’ 

Cullen opened and closed his mouth, and frowned. ‘We’re friends, _good_ friends –‘ 

‘Yes we are, aren’t we. Such marvelous close friends. I put off debriefing until I’ve seen you, seen the relief in your face, felt the relief in here,’ she said, a hand flat on her chest. He looked at her hand, pressed against her heart, and something inside him tightened. ‘So what do I want from you? Because you know me so well you can predict it.’ She had never sounded so alien, so _not_ human, so elven as she did then, her words lilting, her large eyes blazing, her head cocked to one side. She held herself carefully, perched on the edge of the seat, fragile as a blade of grass, strong as a blade of steel. 

‘You want … to …’ he swallowed, his throat clenching up, and paused. He shook his head. ‘I can’t say what you want,’ he finally admitted. ‘I can only say what I want, when you arrive home. I want to make sure you’re safe and whole and healthy and happy, and I …’ he paused, shook his head again, whether denying her or his fear he wasn’t sure. 

He could only go forwards with this now, he had set a course. 

‘ _Maker_ I want you so much,’ he whispered, hanging his head, hating the admission but feeling more free than he had since he’d first admitted to himself how he felt about her. 

The silence was broken only by the sounds of her standing and moving in front of him, reaching down, lifting his hands, kneeling on the bench either side of his legs, straddling him, and she slid her hands slowly over his shoulders, her gaze holding his. 

He looked into her lovely face, his eyes dropping to her lips, back to her eyes, unbelief at first, shifting to wanting, as he slid his hands onto her waist, pulled her forwards until her body was snug against him, never taking his eyes from her face, possibly not even breathing, he couldn’t quite tell. 

He stretched back into her hands as her fingers stroked the back of his neck, up into his hair. ‘Ellerie,’ he said softly, not sure if he was warning her or encouraging her. 

‘Strange as it may seem, _human_ , we want the same things after all,’ the elf purred. 

How could he not kiss her then? How could he not lean towards her, as she leaned towards him, feel her mouth on his as his eyes closed, his senses heightened, touch and taste, the delicate way she parted her lips and tipped her head, her mouth both warm and cool, sweet and swollen, the desire of months making him savour every nuance, every fractured breath , the world around him shrinking to the play of her lips on his, the whole reason for his breathing being this slow, exquisite exploration of his mouth on hers. 

He cupped her face, smoothing his thumbs over her cheekbones, his eyes still closed, just feeling, just being in her arms. 

Her breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, blinking a little, to meet her gaze, and they sat for a moment, breathing each other’s breath, nose tip to nose tip, a giddy half-smile on both of their faces. 

‘Inquisitor? Commander?’ the soft voice of Mother Giselle broke into their space. ‘Much as I feel I am intruding, I am perhaps a more gentle intrusion than the gardeners will be.’ 

Ellerie wriggled backwards and Cullen helped her slide from his lap, to stand beside her awkwardly. He couldn’t help but smile though, and he kept a hand on her waist, as they greeted the chantry sister. 

He discovered that the smile wouldn’t actually go, despite the light drizzle on the training field, and the stack of reports from Leliana, and he felt the teasing tug of the smile as he listened to various reports from scouts and a complaint about accommodation from a whining Templar. 

It turned out that the smile easily lasted until the next time he saw her, and she renewed it for him, and carried a part away with her. 


End file.
